Phoenician-Roses

There are times when depression finds its way into every crevice and blocks all light and love. So I sit here in this suffocating darkness and try to pretend that good things will happen and light will break into my soul. I daydream that we'll win the lottery and travel the world. Sometimes it's smaller dreams, like being able to have a nice date with my husband and pretend that he doesn't have crippling social anxiety. Sometimes, I dream about what it'd be like NOT to be depressed. The dreams are lies and are a form of denial. I'm in denial, life isn't all that great or hopeful. All dreams are futile and I don't have enough strength for myse

I've struggled with depression and suicide since I was 10 years old. My husband has as well since he was a teenager. The transition into adulthood has become very difficult for us and in some ways, our mental health has gotten even worse. As we struggle with bills and the impending doom of age, having children at some point and eventually death, I am desperate. I wasted 4 years of my life in college studying a degree that could only get me a job as a busboy. I realized much too late that I should have been studying graphic design, which I will now be trying to teach myself. But I'm not desperate for more time, at least not yet. I am aching